


All So Incredibly Loud

by cobalamincosel, violetpeche



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/pseuds/violetpeche
Summary: A part of him knew his back would end up against the crumpled linen of Johnny’s bed with one hand over his mouth to keep quiet, the other twisted in the sheets.He knew he’d have Johnny over him, perfect mouth suckling bruises against his neck, feeling hot and cold all over with sweat trickling out of every pore the deeper. He knew he’d feel like he was losing his goddamn mind the deeper Johnny’s fingers slid into him.This isn’t the first time they’re doing this, and probably won’t be the last, not if Mark has any say in it.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 73
Kudos: 557





	All So Incredibly Loud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetpeche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/gifts).



> The wonderful Any brought this idea to our conversation a while back, while she was listening to Nikes by Frank Ocean. She had this really specific imagery in her mind for it, and I've been in love with it ever since. 
> 
> The both of us have had many other projects in between, and she handed this to me after she sent me the link to this incredible song called [It's All So Incredibly Loud](https://open.spotify.com/track/0H8LHYMi4hzbwSzxp7DOxR?si=cl06vt75REu5K1TxV3VCyA) by Glass Animals. It's a fantastic song that builds and builds, and we both thought about the imagery of what we had taken to calling her "johnmark rain au" and how it tied to this song. 
> 
> She offered this idea to me to write, with the intention that one day she'll do her own version. Consider this story one half of a whole. 
> 
> This story is as much for her as it is hers, and it's my hope that I was able to capture some of the imagery and emotion that she'd intended for this one. I look forward to her ficmix after this. 
> 
> Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and for helping me with the ending. You're honest to god one of my favorite people and I love creating art with you. <3
> 
> I also wanted to get this out in time for Mark's birthday--not that he'll ever read it. (Please God Mark never read this I beg of you.) (But happy birthday, baby.)
> 
> A sincere thank you to my soul-end, ain, for beta-reading this in its early stages. You always give me the confidence to keep going. I'll be your resbak til the end of time. <3

When the night started, Mark could make out all the stars in the sky. Now, the window is fogged over by sheets of rain gliding against the pane. 

He’d come over to watch _Black Mirror_ with Johnny, something to take his mind off the projects piling up at work. It was a _Friday Night thing to do_ , he’d told himself.

Mark hoped they’d spend the night curled up on the couch with cans of Red Bull and a bowl of popcorn lined up on the coffee table. He hoped Johnny would start to ramble nervous commentary to ease the tension during intense scenes. He hoped as soon as the clouds rolled in and the rain had started, Johnny wouldn’t bother to call for an Uber.

And when the odds stacked in Mark’s favor and the hopes of the evening were fulfilled, he knew the rest would end up like this:

A part of him knew his back would end up against the crumpled linen of Johnny’s bed with one hand over his mouth to keep quiet, the other twisted in the sheets. He knew he’d have Johnny over him, perfect mouth suckling bruises against his neck, feeling hot and cold all over with sweat trickling out of every pore the deeper. He knew he’d feel like he was losing his goddamn mind the deeper Johnny’s fingers slid into him.

This isn’t the first time they’re doing this, and probably won’t be the last, not if Mark has any say in it.

Except, that’s the thing, isn’t it?

Mark never really knows if he has a say in it. Not really. Not when his approach to this is always one of cautious trepidation. 

It’s difficult cos they’ve never really talked about it, this thing between them. 

They’re friends. They’re friends that spend a lot of time together. They’re friends that spend a lot of time together fucking. 

The first time it had happened, Mark had shaken so hard from his orgasm that Johnny had had to hold him through it. Mark was pretty sure he’d blacked out from it, that’s how much it had taken out of him. 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s found himself here, under Johnny with Mark’s legs splayed open on either side of Johnny’s thighs. 

The air is cold around them, the heavy rain outside Johnny’s window making the glass condense, fogging over and obscuring Mark’s expression in the reflection, which is just as well. Mark doesn’t need to see the desperation on his face. He doesn’t need to know exactly how much he’s ruined himself for this man. 

Johnny is three fingers-deep inside of Mark while he presses kisses around the pubic hair that surrounds Mark’s cock, lips soft and warm over every part that isn’t where Mark wants Johnny’s mouth to be, but Mark doesn’t make a sound. 

He always tries to keep quiet. It’s bad enough that he lays himself bare for Johnny like this while Mark carries a storm inside of him. He always tries to not cry out, even when Johnny’s telling him he wants to hear Mark, even when Johnny’s ramming into him so hard that his begging slips out anyway. It doesn’t work, but he tries, nonetheless.

There are teeth raking on Mark’s thighs, small bites that are chased by a wicked tongue while Johnny spreads his fingers, and Mark knows that he’s loose already, knows that if Johnny were to fuck into him with his dick right now, Mark would be able to take it, but he also knows that Johnny loves doing this to him, loves pulling Mark taut like a string so that one strike with his fingers is all it will take for a pitched chord of a plea to leave Mark’s lips. 

Mark’s breathing is drowned out by the din of the rainfall, and the moonlight falls over Johnny’s face when he positions himself over Mark again, his smile in place before he leans in to kiss Mark, a kiss that Mark takes gladly, takes it like water in the desert. Mark’s heart drowns in it, his lungs fill with it, his body floats in it, Johnny pressing into him hard and grinding his heavy cock against Mark’s own. 

Johnny feels like a reaper sometimes, like he’s built to consume Mark piece by piece and finish off with his soul as dessert. They are not a couple, somewhat lovers, mostly just friends, but Mark comes over and over to Johnny’s place, comes over and over from Johnny’s words, his hands, his mouth, his cock. 

There’s a sound from outside the room, and Mark knows that Johnny’s roommate Donghyuck has come home. Despite the pleasure of Johnny’s fingers against Mark’s prostate, shame burns inside of him, licks at his veins and his viscera, because he is jealous of Donghyuck, jealous of the fact that surely, Johnny carries a flame for him, but Mark is the stand-in that Johnny can fuck, the willing body while Donghyuck is unreachable and Mark is easy, and--

“You’re thinking so fucking loud,” Johnny whispers, cupping Mark’s jaw with his free hand, making Mark look up at him instead of at the door where his attention had been just a second ago. “Are you with me?” 

“Yes,” Mark says, and even that singular syllable drips in heady want. He feels like his body is bloating with it, the rain outside a reflection of the deluge in his head and in his gut. 

Johnny noses at Mark’s neck, breathing heavily as he pulls his fingers out of Mark’s hole, and Mark can feel it gaping, clenching around nothing, and he can’t help the small whine at the loss of feeling so full. 

“Hurry,” Mark says, nails scratching against the vast expanse of skin on Johnny’s back. 

“You only want me for my dick,” Johnny laughs, his voice low, shooting straight down from the back of Mark’s neck down to his cock that twitches where it’s pressed against Johnny’s abdomen. 

“All of you,” Mark dares to say. “I want all of you.”

And Johnny looks at him with an expression Mark can’t read, but his face shatters before it shutters back in place. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mark Lee,” Johnny mutters, and again, takes a kiss, another, another, his tongue sliding against Mark’s before his teeth take the tip of Mark’s tongue, bite down, making Mark groan out. 

Johnny’s hands are warm all over Mark, thumbs flicking back and forth over Mark’s nipples as he closes his eyes and throws his head back, a silent scream held right behind his vocal cords, threatening to spill out like a geyser when Johnny thrusts his wet cock against Mark’s hardness. Mark could come just like this, he’s sure, could just let go and let his jizz spill between them, but he holds on, holds out. 

The night is still so young. 

Outside the door, the sound of Donghyuck puttering around in the kitchen reminds him exactly why he can’t make any noise, but Johnny is pulling back to sit on his haunches, the glint of the foil packet visible from the blue light of the moon and the streetlamp obscured, muted by the sheets of rain. 

“Let me,” Mark says, his voice wrecked already, dry like a washed-up ship left on the shore. Nimble fingers, hands much too small to wrap around a cock so fucking big, sliding the condom on and jacking Johnny before Johnny drizzles a generous amount of lubricant into his cock. 

Johnny likes it wet, and Mark has learned that anything Johnny likes, he likes, too. 

The gaze that Johnny fixes on Mark makes him want to cover his face, makes Mark wish he could throw a pillow over his head so Johnny didn’t have to see the truth painted on Mark’s features, so that Johnny didn’t have full access to exactly what it was that Mark wanted to tell him. 

Johnny brings Mark’s left leg up, hooks it over his arm, and then secures Mark’s ankle over Johnny’s shoulder with his hand, turning his head to press a few wet kisses to Mark’s calf. 

He positions himself at Mark’s entrance, and pushes in, the intrusion welcome after all of Johnny’s stretching him our earlier, and Mark feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, always this sort of sweet relief whenever Johnny enters him, always like a cascade of emotion and feeling washing over him as Johnny bottoms out, his hips flush against Mark’s. 

“Fuck Mark, how are you still this tight?” Johnny groans, body moving over Mark, his leg pressed close against Johnny’s chest. 

“You’re just--fuck--uh, yes, yes, you’re just that big,” Mark manages to reply in between thrusts, reaching out so Johnny can come close, fold him in half, kiss him again, so that Mark can pretend that they’re making love, so that Mark can pretend that this means more than it does, like Mark is precious and Johnny believes that he is. 

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny hisses, punctuating his words with harder thrusts that make pleasure zing hot and electric through Mark’s body. “I love it when you talk like that, baby.” 

The 'baby' slips out and douses Mark like nectar. He holds his mouth open to receive it, wants Johnny to say it some more, and Mark can’t place it, what’s different about tonight--if it’s the rain’s noise, making him brave, making him think that Johnny won’t hear him--but he says it, licks along the seam of Johnny’s lips and says, “I love it when you call me baby.”

Johnny shifts, a grunt and a moan before he’s sealing Mark’s mouth over with his own. 

“What else do you like, baby?” Johnny asks when he pulls away for a breath, slowing his hips. “Tell me. I wanna know.”

The words taste so maddeningly sweet, and Mark is drunk on them, drunk on the feeling, his body feeling like he’s held in stasis. His hand reaches out blindly to hold onto anything for purchase, and lands on the cold glass of the window. Mark can’t control himself, can’t stop running his mouth, knowing full well that he’s betraying himself, but he’s so fucking tired, he’s exhausted holding things back. 

Johnny’s cock stretches Mark out, fills him to the brim and pulls back, and there’s so much tension in his bent leg that he thinks that he might cramp over, but Mark opens his eyes, and sees Johnny looking down at him, and there it is again, that expression that makes Mark feel so _seen,_ like Johnny knows all his secrets and he’s just waiting for Mark to fess up. 

“I want this all the time,” Mark gasps, burying his face in Johnny’s neck. “Want you all the time.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Johnny whispers, a prayer on Mark’s skin. 

“As if it’s that simple,” Mark replies, voice small, words slurring. It’s impossible to hold a conversation when someone is balls-deep in your ass, Mark thinks distantly. 

Johnny guides Mark’s leg down onto the mattress, but then slides both his arms under Mark’s armpits to hook over Mark’s shoulders, and the next thing Mark knows, he’s kneeling, impaled on Johnny’s cock, gravity making him land harder and deeper while he straddles Johnny. 

“Oh--oh my- _-fuck_ , Jesus fucking--oh my God, you’re in so _deep-_ -fuck!”

Mark doesn’t even know what words are anymore, all he knows is that Johnny is sitting up against the glass, Mark’s got his legs bent on either side of Johnny’s, and he’s never been in this position before, with Johnny, or with anyone else. He’s never been this close. 

“You think you’re the only one who feels that way?” Johnny asks, pushing Mark’s hips down, guiding his movement until Mark’s bouncing on his dick, finding a rhythm that has Johnny gasping into Mark’s chest. Johnny holds Mark close, Johnny’s hand stroking his hardness, and Mark feels sacred. Johnny’s words leave him winded.

“Johnny--” 

There’s sweat along Mark’s hairline, sweat down his back as Johnny’s hands stroke down the length of it before landing on his ass, and Mark feels Johnny pull his cheeks apart, a finger tracing his rim, no doubt relishing in the feel of his cock disappearing into Mark’s tight heat. 

“Mark,” Johnny says, and it’s so broken. “Mark, fuck, baby, when you’re not around I’m thinking of you.”

“You just want me for my ass,” Mark jokes back, because it’s too much. His ears feel like they’re clogged with water, his body doesn’t even feel real anymore, pliant as he is in Johnny’s hands. 

“All of you,” Johnny whispers, and time stills. 

Mark takes a breath. 

Johnny watches him closely. 

“Don’t--don’t do that,” Mark says, and he feels his sternum crack from the force of it. 

“Do what?” Johnny’s lips are on Mark’s jaw, on his cheek. Mark sees his reflection and it looks like he’s on the verge of tears. He _is_ on the verge of tears. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Mark replies. 

“I’m not lying,” Johnny says, and there is pleading in his voice, a hunger in his eyes. 

“Johnny--”

“Mark,” Johnny says. “Please believe me.” 

Mark takes Johnny’s face in his hands, uses his thumb to stroke over the bony prominence of Johnny’s cheeks, traces along Johnny’s eyebrow, and moves, feeling Johnny’s cock slide in deeper after Mark’s every rise and fall, and there Johnny is again, the reaper, having his fill. 

Mark lets his body move, lets it do the talking just as Johnny keeps his hands secure around Mark’s waist, fingers pressing into the skin so hard Mark is sure there will be bruises there, and his aches for it, start stroking his cock in time with his rise and fall, impaling himself on Johnny’s length, and Mark watches himself in the glass, watches the rain pour and pour and pour, and lets his pleasure build as Johnny take his nipple into his mouth, worrying the hard nib with his teeth and tongue. 

He no longer cares about propriety, no longer cares about who’s outside the door, or what he means to Johnny. Mark feels like for once, he’s allowed to take this for himself.

Mark is inside his body, and outside of it, his limbs tight around Johnny like Mark would be unmoored without him, and it is true, he is--breathless and weightless and hapless without this, and only then does it register what Johnny’s saying, what he’s muttering against Mark’s fevered flesh, “Love you, love you, love you,” and Mark is a C-string tuned too tight, his body snapping, his orgasm ripping through him.

Johnny fucks up into him as Mark's mind spins, his lips numb, feeling only registering as Johnny kisses him, swallows his cries, and spills Johnny's desperation into Mark's mouth. Sweeter than nectar.

_Love you. Love you._

Mark keeps moving, and Johnny keeps holding him, and he wonders if something's broken inside of Johnny, too, if all this time, the both of them have had maelstroms in their bodies that can no longer be contained.

Johnny's lips press on Mark's clavicles as Mark rides him, throws his head back, his prostate overstimulated now, his cock softening between them but none of it matters, not when Mark is whispering, "Don't pull out," and Johnny is holding onto him like Mark's a buoy in the ocean.

Outside, thunder rings through the air, and it is almost like the sky opens up for them, torrential in the swell of the emotion that exists in the space between Mark and Johnny's breaths, lightning cutting through the blanket of black and swirling grey.

"I'm close," Johnny says, looking up at Mark, his jaw slack.

"I love you," Mark replies, before kissing him.

What a fucking cliche, Mark thinks, confessions in the throes of passion, but it doesn't quite matter, not when Johnny's choked-out sob rumbles under Mark's hand where it rests over Johnny's chest, and Johnny's coming, spilling into Mark's tight heat while Mark presses kisses on Johnny's sweaty brow and listens to Johnny run his mouth.

His legs are trembling, jelly from where they're still folded on either side of Johnny's body. The glass that Johnny's leaning on has condensation from where body heat on one side, and cold rain on the other, reside together.

Johnny's hands hold Mark close, press him chest to chest as they both come down from their afterglow. It is wet and sticky between them, Mark's cum congealing on their bellies, but neither of them seems to mind. Slowly, Johnny pulls out, ties the condom off, and tosses it haphazardly to the floor next to his bed.

Mark settles on his lap once again, no longer willing to be without the bracket of Johnny's arms around him, not here, not where they're standing.

Their breathing falls in sync, and Mark tastes the air, a cleansing breath now that his lungs are devoid of water. His mind clears. His hands tangle in Johnny's black hair.

"Did you mean it?" Mark asks into the silence.

Johnny pulls back, Mark's jaw resting in the palms of Johnny's hands. His eyes search Mark's face.

"I've always meant it," Johnny says. "I've just been waiting for you to want to face it."

Mark feels his bones settle, and he's in his body again, every nerve ending once again fully in his possession and control again.

"I had it all wrong," Mark whispers, casting his eyes down to look at Johnny's lips, twisted in a wry smile.

"I know," Johnny replies, just the smallest hint of teasing.

Mark doesn’t dignify that with a reply.

"You need to talk to me if we want this to work," Johnny says softly, pressing his thumbs into the apples of Mark's cheeks, squishing them and making Mark rolls his eyes.

"Okay," Mark replies. Johnny brushes the fringe from Mark's eyes, pushes it back from his forehead. “Okay.”

"I told you all you had to do was ask," Johnny says, his voice so low and warm that Mark could curl up and sleep in it. “Baby.”

Mark groans, falling forward, arms around Johnny’s neck, legs wrapping around Johnny’s waist while Johnny’s laugh rumbles from his chest into Mark’s, holding on to Johnny now that he can. 

The rain begins to slow. Mark reaches out to the smudged glass, wiping at it and catching his expression. The noise quiets, only Johnny’s steady breathing remains of sound. 

The crescendo that normally follows Mark whenever he’s in Johnny’s bed has been silenced, replaced with Johnny’s teasing affection. As the rain calms, so does Mark’s heart. 

_You need to talk to me if we want this to work._

So with Johnny’s arms around him, Mark finds his voice, and, in a whisper, fills the room with every thought he’s never said aloud. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [my carrd, made by the lovely Erin.](https://t.co/Nm5AvDvn2U)


End file.
